


Old Wounds

by accurst_writer



Series: Old Wounds Never Heal (Clove's Backstory) [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Child Abuse, Fennell deserved better and I say that like I didn't make her up, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide, Trauma, so many trigger warnings guys please read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accurst_writer/pseuds/accurst_writer
Summary: Clove's childhood (actually, I think the term is "tragic backstory")
Series: Old Wounds Never Heal (Clove's Backstory) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935487
Kudos: 7





	Old Wounds

Mr. and Mrs. Kentwell had never wanted a child, actually. “We are busy people” they said. “High ranking Peacekeepers don’t have time to take care of a little brat” they said. So, their “little brat” got largely ignored when she was young. Until she misbehaved. Then she just got hit.  
They didn’t spend much time with their child at all until she turned 11. Then, her parents came down on her harshly, sending her to Peacekeeper school, always making sure she was giving 110%, hitting her if they didn’t think she was doing well enough.  
The next year, Mrs. Kentwell realised she was pregnant with their second child.  
When their daughter got home from Peacekeeper school that day, her parents sat her down.“Fennell, you’re going to have a baby sibling!”Fennell was both happy and worried. She didn’t like how her parents treated her, and she didn’t want her sibling to experience the same.“Are you going to treat them like you treat me?” She folded her arms across her chest defiantly.  
Her father exploded. “HOW DARE YOU BE SO RUDE? DO YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR ME AND YOUR MOTHER? I HOPE YOUR SIBLING TURNS OUT A HELL OF A LOT MORE POLITE THAN YOU!”  
Like a lot of nights in the Kentwell household, that night ended with hitting.  
Curled up on her bed, dabbing the blood off her head with her sleeve, Fennell decided she had to protect her sibling from their parents. No matter what.

No-one at school ever blinked at Fennell’s new wounds. Being hit by your parents was fairly common in District 2, and Fennell started to wonder if she was being ridiculous wanting her sibling to avoid that. Everyone else could deal with it.  
On her walk home, she saw a posh-looking blonde lady walking with her little toddler, who couldn’t be more than 1. The child grabbed at his mother’s scarf, and Fennell turned her eyes away, bracing herself to hear the slap. But nothing came. When she looked back, she saw the mom kneeling down to the kid’s eye level and talking to him gently before picking him up and continuing to walk. She didn’t look angry, and the kid didn’t look scared.  
Maybe Fennell wasn’t being ridiculous after all.

Or maybe she was, and the lady was no better.

When her younger sister, Clove, was born, Fennell took one look at her and said, out loud. “Oh God, she’s tiny!”  
How was she meant to protect something so small? Clove had been born prematurely, and was absolutely tiny. 

As they both grew older, it became clear to Fennell that she couldn’t protect Clove as much as she wanted to. She was out of the house more and more as her Peacekeeper training got more intense, and Clove had more bruises and scrapes than she did, now.

When Fennell turned 19, she joined the ranks of the Peacekeepers as her family expected. Due to being from a well-known family, she was immediately made a unit leader and dispatched to District 5. 

When she returned on her annual leave, she looked different. Not in her appearance, as she still had the same brown eyes as the rest of the family (except Clove, who’s eyes were, for some anomalous reason, a cold gray). She still had the same brown hair she’d had since she was a child, and she still tied it into a low bun. What was different about Fennell Kentwell now was her demeanor. 

Her hand shook as she reached for her fork at dinner. When her parents asked about her work, she gave noncommittal, vague answers. Sometimes, she looked lost in thought, and when someone spoke to her, she got startled momentarily.   
Clove, being rather observant for a 7 year old, poked Fennell’s arm.   
“Are you okay?” She whispered.   
Fennell nodded, leaning sideways to hug her sister. “I’m fine, Clove. Don’t worry.”  
Even if she couldn’t protect Clove from their parents, Fennell decided she could protect Clove in this way, at least.

She was only at home for one week, before she had to return to District 5. Their parents had started to pick up on the way Fennell was acting, and had almost written her off as a failure already. So they started to push Clove towards the idea of becoming a Peacekeeper too. Of course, she couldn’t enroll in the Peacekeeper school at 7, but they tried to plant the idea in her head.

When Fennell came home on her annual leave the next year, she had obviously got worse. At any mention of work she would just tune out. She accidentally shattered a plate because her hands were shaking too much to hold it. When their parents turned the news on, she ran out of the house.  
Clove found her sitting in the abandoned stone mine at the north edge of the town.“Fennell, I’m not dumb. What’s wrong?”  
In response, Fennell automatically tried to hug Clove and tell her not to worry, but Clove wasn’t having any nonsense.“Tell. Me. What’s. Wrong.”

Eventually, Fennell broke.  
“I’ve seen so much shit, Clove. I’ve done things I never wanted to do. I never asked for this, it was all just decided for me. I haven’t been in control of my own future since I was a child and maybe that’s my fault. I hear their voices, and I see their faces when I close my eyes.” She sobbed.  
Clove wondered who “they” were, but decided not to press the matter.“I’ve killed people.” Whispered Fennell. “I’m too young to be a killer. I’m barely 2 years out of the Reaping and they expect me to just kill people for the smallest things. I know I’ve seen tributes kill people but watching the Games was so different to watching the other Peacekeepers kill citizens. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Clove was at a loss for words. Fennell was still crying, and a small crowd had gathered around the mine now, wondering what was happening.“Come on. Come on. Let’s get you home.” Clove whispered, trying her hardest to haul Fennell to her feet.

The next day was the last day of Fennell’s leave, and she was nowhere to be seen. Clove got up, had breakfast, went to school, and when she came home, she still couldn’t find Fennell. Sighing, she walked upstairs to go to the toilet, and when she opened the bathroom door, she felt instantly sick. There was blood everywhere. Soaking into the carpet. And in the middle of the room was a slumped figure.

“Fennell!” She gasped and ran to her side, shaking her, trying to wake her up.  
She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Fennell had done what? She’d slit her wrists and bled out on the bathroom floor? In shock, Clove ran to her parents, covered in blood, and told them what had happened.As they were one of the better known Peacekeeper families in District 2, they were interviewed for the local news. While her parents were very tearful in the interviews, Clove was just numb.  
At home, Clove was still numb. Her parents, however, were really irrefutably angry. In their eyes, Fennell had made the family look weak, and of course, they took their anger out on Clove, both verbally and physically.

“She’s as useless as her sister.”  
“She’s been a weakling all along.”  
“I never wanted a child. Especially not a girl.”  
“We may as well give up. The Kentwell family name is ruined anyway. It’s not like she’ll be able to restore its glory, even when she is a Peacekeeper.”

This was all said over the dinner table, while Clove was sitting right there. And then, something snapped in the tiny 8 year old, and she sank her dinner knife into the table and stood up.

“Y’know what? No. I’m not a weakling. And I will restore glory to the Kentwell name, just because you said I can’t.”

Her father looked at her. “So you are going to become a Peacekeeper?”

Clove shook her head. “No. I’m going to win the Hunger Games.”


End file.
